


The Poppies are Different in Wonderland

by mightierthanthecanon



Category: Once Upon a Time in Wonderland (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Sex Pollen, Unresolved Sexual Tension, platonic/non platonic/ I don't know what's going on tbh, the poppies made them do it, yeah that's what's going on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:37:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightierthanthecanon/pseuds/mightierthanthecanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'"Poppies or no poppies," Alice informed him, "I am crossing this field." She reached for Will’s hand. "And you are coming with me."'</p><p>Alice and the Knave of Hearts find themselves in a meadow full of poppies with no way out. All of a sudden, they can't seem to keep their hands off of each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And so it begins

**Author's Note:**

> based on this tumblr prompt:
> 
> Will/Knave and Alice ingest an aphrodisiac and are suddenly hot for each other. Jafar’s motives behind it are to unnerve his prisoner, Cyrus, and his ally, the Red Queen. However like all of his schemes, it doesn’t pan out the way that he assumed; they resist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm adding some Red Serpent in here b/c I couldn't leave the other side of the story unwritten. I'm getting back to Alice and Will soon, I promise!

 

What Alice failed to realize about Jafar was that he was patient. Infinitely patient. Jafar had no problem with waiting for Alice to use all three of her wishes, no matter how stubbornly she fought him, or what it finally took to break her will. Jafar had all the time in the world. After all, it was only a question of when. Until that happened, however, he saw no reason why he shouldn't keep himself entertained.

After a word with the rabbit, Jafar learned that Alice and the Knave were attempting to catch their old friend, and perhaps force some truth out of him. It was then that it occurred to Jafar that he had the perfect spell to pass the time. It was something he had learned from an old friend, long ago. Jafar had since killed the vile woman, but that was altogether beside the point. The spell would work perfectly for what he had in mind. He only needed two things: someone to place the trap for him—a role for which the rabbit was more than suitable—and a handful of poppies…

* * *

 

"Oh genie!" Jafar called, striding into the dungeon with his robe billowing behind him. His voice boomed in the cavernous stone chamber and Jafar smirked as his prisoner was startled out of a very fitful sleep.

Cyrus blinked his eyes at the ceiling and sighed. Even when the alternative saw him and Alice constantly chased and attacked by monsters, Cyrus wasn’t quite sure he wanted to be awake. At least in dreams, they were together. He felt the pain of each keenly, the horrible dreams and the waking nightmare, for Jafar was master of them both.

"Well, genie might be too generous of a term now, considering how little you can do from behind those bars."

Jafar snapped his fingers as though an idea had just come to him, although Cyrus knew that for a fact that wasn’t the case. Anything Jafar chose to do was planned with the utmost precision.

"Vessel! That's much more appropriate, don't you think?"

Jafar stalked towards the cage and Cyrus drew himself up as far as he could inside the small space, feeling uncomfortably like prey. He ignored the barb about his magic, painful as it may have been. Cyrus was not afraid. Cyrus would not flinch from this man. Jafar needed him, needed his magic. What was there to fear? He looked calmly into Jafar's eyes as the wizard continued.

"A vessel, through which the lamp exerts _its_  magic. An empty vessel—my vessel, in fact—to use as it see fit."

"I am not an empty vessel, Jafar."  

Jafar paused in front of him, delicately raising an eyebrow, and Cyrus saw a dangerous smile slither across his face much like the snake Jafar so often carried at his side. He shuddered in revulsion as Jafar leaned closer. 

“Aren’t you?”

The smile faded, but the dark wizard continued to stare, eyeing Cyrus with a hungry gaze that had him unconsciously stepping backwards. The man looked at everything and everyone as though he wanted to devour it. Jafar laughed then, and, not for the first time, Cyrus was grateful for the bars of his hanging prison. He watched to see Jafar cross to the other side of the room, and then closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. Jafar had not been in the room in days—Cyrus had no way of knowing how many, but he estimated it at around thirty, more or less—but, now, he was here, talking to Cyrus. There were a million questions he wanted to ask, but the one most pertinent one was—

“What am I doing here, Jafar?” A voice interrupted.

Cyrus didn’t need to look to see who was coming through the door—no one could mistake that voice—but he had always been something of an aesthetic, and after months with nothing but the crumbling rocks and shabby rags of the dungeon for company, Cyrus couldn’t help himself. His eyes opened of their own volition and he turned slowly towards the Red Queen like a flower seeking the sun.

“So pleased that you were able to come and join us, Your Majesty.”

“Well, Jafar, given the politeness of your request, how could I say no?”

“You couldn’t, could you…darling?”

Sarcasm dripped so heavily from both of their lips that Cyrus knew the Red Queen couldn’t have had a choice in the matter. You wouldn’t have known that to look at her, however. She was lounging on Jafar’s magic carpet as it floated several feet in the air, and her eyes were shooting daggers at her so-called partner. Clearly the Red Queen was summoned before had a chance to perform her daily routine, yet she still looked as regal as she did on the throne. She wore a red velvet robe, quite low-cut and fitted to her body, tied tightly with a sash around her narrow waist. Undone, her pale hair tumbled around her shoulders, but the Red Queen would not be seen without her crown, and it glittered like fire atop her head. Cyrus wondered if she ever took it off.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Jafar. I _will_ leave,” she said, brushing past Jafar’s hand to descend from the carpet with a sweep of velvet and a flash of bare thigh. “I’d love to go back to the delicious dream I was having before your little…rug interrupted me.”

Cyrus watched her closely. He doubted very much that the Red Queen was dreaming when Jafar summoned her. However…dreams, fantasies—what was the difference when one could make the impossible possible?

“Ah, yes, the purpose of this visit. It’s all for our little prisoner. Oh, excuse me— _my_ little prisoner.”

Jafar smirked at the Red Queen and Cyrus saw a flicker of fury pass across her face only to be quickly replaced by cloying sweetness.

“Yes, of course. _Your_ prisoner.”

With a flourish, the Red Queen glided towards Cyrus’ cage, and then stopped almost abruptly, as though getting too close would debase her in some way.

“Hello, genie. Cyrus, was it?” Her eyes were bright, and her laughter tinkled like wind chimes in the empty hall. “You commoners are so forgettable—I hardly noticed you in the corner there. Like a discarded piece of furniture.”

Yes, the Red Queen would enjoy mocking a prisoner, having just been summoned like a servant girl herself. Cyrus inclined his head. He would not bow to her, but neither would he be impolite.

“Your majesty,” he murmured, looking her in the eyes.

The Red Queen smiled, clearly amused by his boldness, but something must have caught her eye, because she focused on something past him, eyes widening in awe. Cyrus turned slightly and gasped when he saw it. It was a magic looking glass, but, at the same time, it wasn’t. It was huge—it covered most of the wall—and it didn’t seem to be made of anything substantial. There was a stream of magic coming from the mirror, like an unraveled string, and Cyrus followed it to the end of Jafar’s staff.

“That can’t be a looking glass…” the Red Queen faltered, turning quickly away from it. She was staring into the ceiling, blinking back tears. Something about that looking glass had upset her. Jafar couldn’t see her now, busy as he was with the looking glass, but Cyrus could, and, soon, Jafar would as well. His current master's cruelty nonwithstanding, if there was a looking glass, then Cyrus just might have a chance to see Alice, and he couldn't let the Red Queen destroy his one opportunity.

“Your majesty.” Cyrus said quietly.

She swiveled toward him, haughty as ever in the face of her own vulnerability, and then focused her attention on Jafar. She drew her robe around her and strode towards the golden throne where Jafar reclined, watching them both imperiously.

“What—”

Jafar cut her off before she had a chance to speak.

“It’s a magic mirror, my dear," drawled Jafar, explaining the obvious. "Don’t tell me this is your first.”

“Looking glasses this size don’t exist,” the Red Queen countered, looking back at it reflexively.

Jafar slammed his staff on the floor in indignation, and the edges of the mirror sparked in a hundred different colors. He leaned forward to tuck a strand of hair behind the Red Queen’s ear.

“I’ve just created one, haven’t I?” he asked in a silky voice completely at odds with the frenetic sparkling of his magic.

Cyrus recoiled from the sight. His magic could be needed for positive outcomes or negative outcomes, by good men or by evil men, but the magic was always the same—calm. Composed. Soothing. Granting a wish felt, ironically enough, like coming home. This…Cyrus rolled his shoulders to shake the feeling. This felt like violence, like hatred, like domination. Jafar was forcing the magic to do his bidding. Everything about this was wrong.

By the time the magic had quieted enough for Cyrus to look up, Jafar and the Red Queen were seated near him, facing the mirror on the wall. She looked down at him, gesturing towards the mirror dramatically.

“Eyes up, darling,” she said, mouth curving in a mischievous grin. “Jafar has something he wants you to see.”


	2. Have you ever seen The Wizard of Oz?

They had been walking for hours, days, it seemed. No matter how sneaky they were in their planning, or how fast they ran through the forest, Will and Alice were always one step behind the White Rabbit. After taking one too many branches in the face, Will had had about enough.

"Alice," he called, brushing stray leaves out of his hair, "you mind telling me again why we’re searching through every forest for that rabbit? It isn’t like the Red Queen’s in hiding or anything. We could have been there by now!" 

Alice turned to face Will, and let out a long-suffering sigh. “I may be bold, but I’m not stupid, Knave,” she declared. “If I show up at the Red Queen’s castle, we’ll be dead before we reach the doorstep.”

And wasn’t that the bloody truth. Will stomped past Alice, trying his hardest not to think.

"Unless, of course," Alice remarked, arching an eyebrow, "you think she’ll be happier to see you?" 

Annoyingly perceptive, as always, thought Will. “I’m sure the Red Queen is as eager to kill me as the rest of Wonderland, sweetheart,” he said, hacking through a cluster of branches at the forests’ edge.

Alice stood stubbornly with her hands on her hips. “I’m not so sure I believe that.” 

Will stopped dead in his tracks. No way.

"Hello?" Alice laughed incredulously. "Really, Knave, if this is how you hold a conversation, no wonder every woman in Wonderland wants your head."

Will stared straight ahead in disbelief, barely even noticing Alice as she came up beside him.

Poppies. A field of poppies. 

"A—Alice," he choked. "Have you ever seen—"

Alice looked up at him, expectant.

"Never mind." Will shook his head. "We can’t go this way."

"What are on earth you talking about?" she asked, picking up speed as she grew desperate. "We have to go this way. The Red Queen wants to kill us, the White Rabbit is our only lead, and I—"

"—need to find Cyrus," Will finished.

Alice smiled. “Yes. I do.”

Will edged uneasily around the field, looking for a break in the flowers. But all he saw was an endless stretch of red.

"We need to find another way. If we go through here, the poppies will—" He laughed. "I can’t believe I’m going to say this. The poppies will put us to sleep."

Alice squinted at the poppies, nonplussed. “No. This is another way.”

This is another…huh? Even the Wicked Witch’s flowers didn’t work that fast. “Um…what did you just say?” Will asked. 

"This field is not supposed to be here." Alice spoke carefully, spinning in a slow circle. She gasped.

He spun around, prepared to rush to Alice’s side, then stopped so quickly that he almost fell on top of her. It wasn’t just the field now. Wherever Will looked, he and Alice were surrounded by red blooms.

"Will?" she asked softly, "were those poppies there a minute ago?"

Will looked carefully the way they had come, shook his head, and then looked again. “No, but a forest definitely was,” Will said angrily. The branches she’d hacked through, the river he’d helped her across—they were all gone. Will kicked at the flowers nearest his feet, sneezing as the pollen drifted into the air. It sparkled as the light hit it.

"Bloody hell." Will scowled. Did everything in Wonderland have to be so…dramatic?

 Alice sheathed her sword and strode into the field, jaw set stubbornly, as usual. Will grinned in spite of himself. Well, I guess that answers that question, he thought.

"Poppies or no poppies," Alice informed him, "I am crossing this field." She reached for Will’s hand. "And you are coming with me."

Will looked at her hand, more delicate than it had any right to be, considering how good she was with a sword, and held it tight.

"Well, since you’ve asked so nicely," he replied with mock politeness, and they walked into the field together, unaware of the three pairs of eyes watching them intently through the looking glass.


	3. An Unfamiliar Challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life and stuff have been getting in the way, but yay here's a new chapter!

Poppies. Shite. Will couldn't decide if he was more annoyed or incredulous at their sudden appearance in Wonderland. He wasn't sure. He'd decide later, if they ever got out of this Technicolor hell. For now, Will needed to prepare.

"Uh, are you quite sure you want to be doing this, love?" he asked, pausing for a moment to admire the way she strode confidently through the field of brightly colored flowers. 

"Excuse me?!" Alice whirled around, eyebrows high. Will stifled a laugh. It was really too easy to get her riled up. Not that he had any plans to stop doing it. 

Will whistled. "Incredulity certainly looks delicious on you, Alice." Two spots of color rose high in her cheeks and Will realized that he meant exactly what he'd said. Of course he had fancied Alice when he first met her, who wouldn't? She wasn't just beautiful—her face was a work of art, and only surpassed by her talent of constantly being 2 steps ahead of anyone who happened to cross her path, friend and foe alike. Almost as soon as he'd met her, however, she'd excitedly introduced him to the genie, and he had pushed his attraction for Alice to the back of his mind, content to continue making his way through the female population of Wonderland. For some reason, however, he couldn’t quite get his mind to cooperate, and he found himself distracted by the way the slight breeze caused her hair to dance around her face. He didn't even realize that she was glaring at him before it was too late.

Alice shoved at him softly. "Oof! Will..." she glared at him, cocking her head to the side as she waited for him to pay attention. "We have to find Cyrus. The only way to do that is by finding a way out of here." She looked around, considering her options. The air was tinged with red, as the poppies seemed to stretch out for miles and miles in every direction. "It's probably just a garden of illusion that gets you lost or something. We just..." she trailed off for a second, looking up at Will with an odd look in her big blue eyes. "We just need to figure it out," she said finally, turning on her heel to continue through the field. 

Alice had to be the most stubborn woman in the entire world. Will grinned to himself. And he was familiar with three of them. He had to make Alice understand, before it was too late. "It isn't the bloody Bermuda Triangle, Alice!" he said, "It's the Red Queen."

Alice pursed her lips, raising an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

Will glanced down, his eyes drawn to her mouth. "Are you going to listen this time?" he asked, forcing his eyes back up. Of course she wouldn't. Alice was Alice, and she'd do exactly as she pleased.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Alice looked up at him, her eyes bright with the familiar challenge, but also something else. "You never know until you try, Knave." She blinked quickly, turning away again. Will's mouth dropped open and he took a step back, confused. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn that Alice was just...flirting with him. But that wasn't possible. He was probably just scared. Scared, nervous and projecting. Bloody poppies. Will watched as Alice sheathed her sword and turned to him. "Well?" she prompted.

It was worth a try. "It isn't a garden, or a meadow, or any of that rubbish. It's a spell. It isn't real, Alice," he explained, willing her to understand. "It's meant to put us to sleep so we're more easily hurt, or kidnapped, or worse." Will shuddered, running a thumb along his neck nervously. He'd almost lost his head one too many times for his liking. When Alice didn’t respond, he looked back at her, ready to tease her. His words dried up in his throat when he saw how intently she was following the motion of his thumb with her eyes. What was she doing? Will cleared his throat.

Alice nearly jumped. "I--I'm sorry?"she asked, eyes wide.

"I said it's meant to lower our defenses, Alice," he repeated. Will couldn't tell if Alice was paying attention to him or not. Something was wrong. He went to her to see if she was okay.

Rather, Will planned on seeing if she was okay. His hands moving of their own volition, Will found himself holding Alice in his arms, and rubbed his fingers soothingly over her shoulders. "Are you all right, Alice?" he asked, his eyes soft with concern. She didn't seem like she was falling asleep, but this was the Red Queen's doing, Will was sure of it. He stayed on his guard. Will wasn't going to let anything happen to Alice.

She stepped back and out of his arms, brushing her hair out of her face unnecessarily. I'm quite all right, thank you," she answered politely, making a point to look away from him as she walked determinedly in an arbitrary direction. "We’ll go this way. If we walk in a straight line, we have to find the exit at some point," she said, endearingly optimistic as usual. 

 _The exit_. Why not. Will nodded."Of course," Will said, not quite sarcastically. If there was an exit, he was quite sure that Alice would find her way to it. She had a way of figuring things out. Will was content to let Alice make all the tactical decisions. He was considerably less inclined to try, knowing as he did that the fate of the poppies was inevitable. To be honest, Will welcomed sleep if only it would allow him to avoid whatever was going on with his emotions at the moment. He started to follow in the direction she had indicated, then stopped short, the unnatural perfection of the terrain the only reason Will didn’t stumble right into Alice’s back.

She was bent at the waist, carving a large X into the ground with her sword. Alice's dress barely covered her backside at this angle, and it afforded Will an unobstructed view of her long stockinged legs. He followed the long line of her body with his eyes, from the heels of her boots to the soft curve of her calves, to the tops of her thighs, lingering on the hem, where the outline of her bum disappeared beneath soft white ruffles. 

Bloody hell. Will almost slapped himself. This was _Alice._ Thinking she was beautiful was one thing, but objectifying her? He had to stop. 

"Oi, Alice!" Will croaked, forcing himself to stop staring.  “Mind filling me in on this brilliant plan of yours?”

She pushed herself up and pointed towards the dirt. "This will be our starting point. We'll continue straight into the field from here, and reach the end of this…place by nightfall." She started walking, dragging her sword behind her. Will watched her walk forward, hair shining in the noonday sun, ruffles swishing softly with each step she took. There wasn’t a girl in Wonderland he’d rather walk behind.

 _Down, boy_ , he thought. Alice was his _mate_ , his _best mate_ , and he needed to concentrate on getting her out of this mess. Will scrambled to catch up. "Right, then. Let’s go. After all, how hard can it be to walk in a straight line? I'm not even drunk now," he said, with a grin. Will nudged Alice with his shoulder. "And let me tell you, love, walking in a straight line while completely sloshed is quite an impressive talent." Will smiled to himself. He had a list of hidden talents a mile long, and all of them were related to shagging. He was proud of himself for not even mentioning them, but, judging by her throaty chuckle, Alice knew what he was getting at.

"Of course not," she said, smirking, "Let's not forget getting arrested, getting into trouble, and getting the entire female population of Wonderland on your bad side." She turned around, flipping her hair cheekily at him, then froze as she saw the path she had taken.

Alice’s face fell as she surveyed the way that they had come. The trail was gone. “Bollocks,” Will said softly.

Of course the trail was gone. The poppies were the result of a very strong spell. Nothing they could do short of calling Anastasia on the phone and getting her and her wizard to reverse it would solve their problem. Will wasn’t going to say that to Alice, though.

He cocked his head to the side. “Alice,” he started.

She let out a little huff. “Okay, so you were right,” Alice admitted.

Will chuckled. “Wasn’t going to say a thing.” And he wasn't. Out loud.

“Yeah, right,” Alice countered, blue eyes sparkling. “I can see right through you, _Knave_.” Her tongue lingered over the word like she enjoyed the taste of it and Will felt a pulse of heat. He was moving towards her before he realized it.

“Oh, is that right?” he asked, coming to stand directly in front of her. “Tell me. What do you see?” Will raised his eyebrows, aiming for a confidence that he most certainly did not feel.

“I see—“ Alice stopped herself, frowning, and tried again. “I see my friend, Will Scarlett, who’s about to help me figure a way out of this place.” She walked away quickly, for no apparent reason than the desire to get away from him.

Unable to let her go, Will crossed the distance between them quickly.

Alice sensed him following, shifting slightly as she looked straight ahead. “Will,” she breathed shakily when he had come up behind her, close enough to feel the heat of her body, “What is happening?”

Alice sounded cool, confident, in control of the situation as always…but, this close to her, Will could feel her body trembling. He could see how tightly Alice was holding her arms in to her chest, as if she feared reaching out to touch him.

Will felt affection for Alice bloom in his chest and he knew his heart, hidden away, was skipping a beat. Will bent down slightly and breathed her in. Even after days of stamping through the woods, Alice still smelled enticingly of strawberries. “I haven’t the faintest idea, love,” he murmured quietly, smiling in satisfaction as he watched Alice uncross her arms slowly and incline her neck to him. He placed his hand gently on her collarbone, reveling in the softness of her skin as he brushed his thumb over her nape. "What do you reckon we should do about it?"

In the next moment, Alice spun around to face Will. She grasped the back of his neck and pulled him close to her, tongue wetting her lips as though she wanted to draw him into a kiss. But she didn’t. Her grip grew almost imperceptibly tighter, then vanished suddenly as Alice forced herself away from him again. Will shut his eyes in exasperation, feeling an almost physical pain at the distance between them.

“You obnoxious, insufferable, infuriating man,” Alice said, almost to herself. “I do believe I want to kiss you right now.”

Will’s eyes shot open. “I’m sorry, what?” he said, shocked.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. As much as part of him (and he knew exactly which part) wanted to give Alice what she wanted, the part of him that had spent hours listening to Alice profess her love for the imprisoned genie was more than suspicious of what she was saying to him at the moment.

Alice was blushing now. “I shan’t be repeating that, so don’t ask. I don’t even know what’s come over me,” she said, perplexed. “I’m trying to find Cyrus. I want to find Cyrus.”

Will walked towards her, entranced by the flush on her face. Unable to stop himself, he brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

Alice’s looked up at Will in surprise, but didn’t stop him. “Will?” she prompted softly, unconsciously leaning into his hand, “Why aren’t we sleeping?”

Will tried to concentrate on Alice’s words, and not the way she smelled or the softness of her skin or the contentment on her face as she leaned into him. He squeezed his eyes shut and said the first thing that came to mind. “Oz,” Will said, swallowing hard. “The poppies are from Oz.” Not that it made any difference where they were from. The poppies were here now, weren’t they?

An excited smile spread across Alice’s face. She paced a bit, thinking. “But we’re not in Oz now, are we? The poppies must be different here.”

Will followed her with his eyes. Of course the poppies were different. He had been right all along. Bloody poppies. “Different? Yeah, I’d wager as much. Poppies to make you fall in love,” he said bitterly. “Only the Red Queen would come up with such cruel nonsense.”

“Oh really?” asked Alice slyly, trailing a finger up his arm as she walked toward him, “Is that love you’re feeling now, _Knave_?” She looked up at him through her lashes and Will's breath caught in his throat.

Oh, no. Not at the moment, it most definitely was not. At least, not love in the way Alice saw it. Will shrugged, feigning flippancy. “I may be a heartless criminal, but I do try to maintain a sense of propriety in the presence of…delicate young ladies.” Alice paused, arching an eyebrow. “Although, given present company, I think I can dispense with the pleasantries.” He stepped towards Alice decisively. If Alice wanted the truth, Will was going to give it to her.

“No, Alice. What I feel right now is _lust_. What I feel is the bloody unbearable need to touch you, to hold you, to be closer to you than any two people have ever been to each other. What I feel is the fever of a thousand summers heating up my blood, pounding through my body so hard it hurts. What I feel, Alice, is the burning desire to strip every piece of clothing from you and shag you properly in that bed of poppies until you’ve forgotten everything but the color red and how to say my name.”

All of a sudden, he had his hands full of a warm, yielding Alice. She gazed into his eyes and swayed slightly, fisting her hands into his shirt. “Will,” she whispered, and her voice was so full of need, so thick with desire that Will couldn't help wanting to capture her lips in a kiss. He bent towards Alice, but came back to himself just in time, pausing before he could kiss her.

“Bloody hell, Alice,” he groaned, touching his forehead to hers, “We have to stop. _Tell me to stop.”_


End file.
